


How to Exorcize a Venusian Sex Ghost (In a Prophet-Honoring Way)

by badcostume



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, halloween is fun for everyone, party time on DS9
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badcostume/pseuds/badcostume
Summary: A very late contribution to the Star Trek Halloween Big Bang.[PROMPT: DS9 It Follows au where nearly everyone is sleeping with everyone. Can be played for laughs or serious.]Guess how I played it?***“That’s not really a short time,” Odo says. “What do you mean by ‘quality time’?”“We had sexual intercourse,” Dax says. “Sorry, Odo, euphemisms are a side-effect of hanging around with humans and their whole, you know.”Odo nods. “Genital shame,” he says.“Should we leave?” Julian asks, from behind them.
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/Kira Nerys, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, Odo/Quark (Star Trek)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 48
Collections: Star Trek Halloween Horror Bang 2020





	1. PROLOGUE

**PROLOGUE**

**VESBYSTIT EVE, 2PM**

**QUARK’S BAR**

“It’s just as the famous poet, Zaxar the Giant Rat Man, says,” Quark lectures from the top of the ladder. “Damn it. Hey, make yourself useful. Give me a hand here, why don’t you.”

Odo sighs and begrudgingly stretches his arm up, up, and above where Quark is on the ladder to hang the banner. It’s about 2pm, a dead time on the promenade, and Quark has roped Odo into helping him prepare for Vebystit, a three-day holiday of his own devising. Much to Odo’s dismay, it has become a yearly institution.

Odo holds the edge of the banner while Quark nails in the last corner. He leans back to admire his work. 

“There we go,” Quark says, radiating satisfaction. “Not so bad this year, eh?”

Neon purple and green Bajoran blood bats hang over the bar, mixed with netting supposed to evoke the treacherous webs of the planet’s famous spiders. Every table is overflowing with a display of holographic fruits and grains. In the corner, a dummy filled with straw that looks suspiciously like Odo is standing ready to be pierced with pins 5-inches long in a nearby tin can. Rom has already poked himself on the pins multiple times.

“Spectacular. What does the Rat-Man say,” Odo prompts. 

“Oh, right. The sweat / the belly-up compromise / to have your scent in my whiskers / my spirit returns only here,” Quark recites. His voice warbles a little. Odo can never tell what other than latinum might evoke an honest emotional response from the Ferengi. So far his list comprises Oomox, Dabo (doesn’t really count, latinum adjacent), and a brand of grasshopper candy they used to make when Quark was a kid that went bankrupt after the owner killed himself. “Brings a tear to your eye, doesn’t it.”

“I can’t cry,” Odo says. 

“Killjoy,” Quark says. “Help me down from here. You know I’m afraid of heights.” 

Odo does, despite knowing that Quark calls this manner of disembarking “the shapeshifter escalator” behind his back. He allows it because Major Kira recently sent him a humorous subspace message of a picture of a terran short-haired dog with ears larger than its legs being hoisted in the air. Its chubby canine visage was immediately familiar. _Our favorite criminal,_ Kira had written, and now it is what he thinks of every time Quark irritates him. 

“Anyway, if you weren’t a heartless monster,” Quark continues, safely on the ground, “You’d know exactly what Zaxar means. It’s the thrill of being laid bare before a lover; of the tender intimacy one can only cultivate in a moment of pure abandon.”

“They way you say that is disgusting,” Odo says.

“So I’ve been told,” Quark says. “Are you coming tonight? Your gooey appeal could really rake in some cash. And who knows, there might be something to tempt you on the menu.”

“Quark, why are you so fascinated with my love life?”

“Professional interest,” Quark says, airily. “Ah! Wait a moment.”

He scoots behind the bar and reappears with a bag. 

“Wear this. It’s a costume party, you know. You might want to try looking more appealing than...your usual, uh, rustic charm,” he says, eyes shifting to the scarecrow and back to Odo. 

“I could merely change forms,” Odo says, uncomfortably. The bag is suspiciously light. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Quark asks. He claps Odo on the back. “Lighten up, constable, it’s High Vibystitklyk!”

“I thought it was Vebystit?”

“Same difference!” 

  
  



	2. DAY ONE: CARNIVAL OF DISGUISE

**DAY ONE: CARNIVAL OF DISGUISE**

**8:00 PM, QUARK’S**

“You must do the greeting,” Odo says, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd. 

“Gracious, constable, how did Quark rope you into doing this,” Bashir asks. He’s towing Dax and Kira in his wake; the latter looking less than excited about the prospect of the evening ahead. Dax, on the other hand, has already bodyslammed two Klingons in greeting and is eyeing a push-up competition. The crowd at Quarks has spilled out into the promenade; Bashir had to do some deft maneuvering to avoid bathing in a two-tiered tray of romulan gravedigger flaming shots being passed around a group of suspiciously young-looking Bajorans. 

“Just like grandma used to make,” Kira says wryly, snagging one of the shots from Rom. 

“This must be an unnerving mash-up of Bajoran traditions,” Bashir says, eyeing the vibrant red color. "I'm surprised it isn't picketed by hard-liners from the main temples."

"The station is a weird middle ground," Kira says, taking the shot and coughing a ball of flame that singes his eyelashes, “After the occupation, any party was welcome. Vespek is about the harvest, anyway, so eat and be merry has always been a constant. Besides, do you think I’d be here if I really hated it?”

“I might have charmed you into it,” Bashir says.

“Fat chance,” Dax says, popping up, red-faced from pushups. “Obviously  _ I’m  _ the appeal here.”

She does a double-take.

“Wow, Odo, looking good.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Odo says. Odo is wearing a glittery, form-fitting catsuit the color of an oilslick. Or rather, he’s transformed himself into it, just to annoy Quark, and added an extra eye to his forehead. 

“Quark did not want me to scare the children this year, and thus provided me with a mandatory costume. I added the extra eye myself.”

“Glad you stopped at one,” Bashir says. Last year Odo had watched a holovid of John Carpenter’s  _ The Thing  _ for inspiration on what inspired fear in humanoids on Garak’s suggestion. The resulting configuration of his limbs had been so traumatizing that Quark had seriously considered closing the bar and torching it for the insurance money. 

“Thank you, Dr Bashir,” Odo says. “Now I am afraid I must insist that you do the greeting.”

“Oh, right,” Kira says. They all fumble for the holographic laminated cards that had been slipped under their doors. Dax pulls hers from the cleavage of her ancient Trill warrior princess getup. 

“On three,” Bashir says. “One, two-

_ Stranger season comes again _

_ Come to Quark’s, bring a friend _

_ And let Vesply-Vesty-Vest-” _

“Vebystit,” Odo supplies.

_ “And let Vebystit now begin! _

_ 12% discount for females til midnight, applicable only to well drinks and Orion Banana Liquor.” _

“Typical,” Kira says.

“Bright side: we have four hours to take advantage of the discount,” Dax says. 

“Welcome,” Odo intones, and sketches a bow. The bow is awkward but heartfelt; everyone suspects that Odo enjoys Quark’s three-day appropriative money grab hoopla a lot more than he lets on. “The first night of Vebystit is for disguises and intrigues. There is a costume contest at midnight. The winner gets 5 free minutes in a holosuite.”

“Five whole minutes,” Julian says. “How generous.” 

“It’s better than last year, which was leftover candied Warg feet from the Andromedan Festival of Repentance,” Kira says. 

“Yes, I recall, several people had chipped teeth,” Bashir says. “It was a great opportunity to improve my familiarity with Ferengi veneer technology, though. We even got a conference invite out of it.” 

“You just have to suck on them long enough,” Dax says. “I told you it wasn’t a biting snack.” 

“There are seasonal delicacies on offer for those of you who consume sustenance,” Odo says. “I have overheard several patrons saying that the Bats In A Blanket are passable.” 

“We will take three,” Dax says, taking Kira’s arm, who had been suspiciously edging towards the path of least resistance towards the exit. “C’mon, Julian, let’s dive in.”

“Lead the way, princess.” 

  
  
  


**8:10 PM**

“This is  _ vile _ ,” Julian says. “I ordered a martini. Shaken, not stirred, because--” he gestures at his tuxedo, “And this tastes like banana ...stomach acid.”

“So what,” Quark says. “Top quality vermouth is wasted on you anyway, you complain unless I water it down with Risian lemon soda.”

“This can’t be potable,” Julian says, inspecting his glass. 

“Maybe to you,” Quark says. “Everyone else loves it.”

“Prophets alive, this is foul,” Kira shouts from across the room.

Quark shrugs. 

“No accounting for taste,” he says. 

**8:45 PM**

“And thus I just managed to miss that one cell line division that would have secured my place as valediptorian.”

“Very good!” Dax says, clapping. “Your accent is getting better.”

Kira does a small bow to the assembled patrons. Morn hoots.

“Ha ha, yes,” Julian says, tugging at his bowtie. “Bloody good show, and all that. Ha. I love it when you do this. It is  _ valedictorian _ , though--”

“Thanks!” Kira says brightly. “I’ve been practicing your voice for, oh, I don’t know how long.”

“Months, it seems,” Julian says. 

“Great at parties,” Dax says. 

“Oh, Dax does an excellent Garak,” Kira says, “Want to hear us argue?”

“Ha ha!” Julian manages. “No, no, somehow I think I can live without it--Rom? Another round?"

  
  


**10:00 PM**

“You know, this stuff isn’t half bad,” Julian says. 

**10:05 PM**

Quark is pretty good at figuring out when a party will reach its’ peak, and he’s happy to say that the point of decline is far, far ahead of them. Everyone is getting drunk, Odo is keeping his form to something that doesn’t violate the eye, and he can’t see the floor thanks to the crush of clientele. 

“Banana Nipple?” he suggests to the lovely Andorian in a crab costume at the bar. Or at least, he assumes it’s a crab--sea creatures escape him. 

“Excuse me?” She jumps, slightly. 

“It’s a human appendage. They suckle their young,” he explains. 

“How fascinating,” she says. Quark grins winsomely. 

“So, do you have nipples?” he asks. 

“Hi,” Dax says, bellying-up to the bar and tossing her hair over one speckled shoulder. “I’m Dax.”

“Fantastic,” Quark grumbles. 

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“Oh, just looking for company,” the Andorian says. 

“Wanna Banana Surprise?”

“What’s that?”

“Really anything Quark produces from that bar of his,” Dax says. “Here, my treat.”

As they make their way, drinks in hand, over to Kira and a gaggle of Gamma Quadrant nomads in matching silver outfits, the Andorian’s eyes flick to the doorway. A look of fear crosses her face, but it’s barely noticeable. 

**10:30 PM**

“I do not understand,” Odo says. “Who are you?”

“I feel that my outfit is sufficiently self-explanatory,” Garak says “I am Farbad, scribe for the Hebetian emperor Visbik, whose cunning and wit was vital for securing possession of the disputed border-moons and thus their hearty grains.”

“Wasn’t there a massive famine under Visbik?” Odo asks. 

Garak waves away the inquiry with a gold-clawed hand. Odo makes a mental note to try and replicate their shape on his own time. 

“It wasn’t really a famine, more like a sustained season of crop failure, death and insurrection that Visbik had no control over,” he explains. “In any case, if you had read any of the _Glory and Despair_ novels, you’d immediately recognize me as Farbad.”

“Because he dressed like a big old slut?” Quark hisses. He has somehow materialized near them and is wringing a dishrag. “The romance part of the festival isn’t until the day after tomorrow. For profit’s sake, man, cover up those ridges before Odo arrests me for solicitation. Again.”

“Cardassian royalty and their attendants would indeed be considered hedonists by the standards of today,” Garak agrees, “But Quark, I’ve seen Dabo girls with carefully arranged bottlecaps covering their delicates, you can’t possibly compare my attire to such.”

“I can and I will,” Quark says. “No banana drink discount for you and your harem-girl outfit.”

“Calm down, Quark. I doubt anyone is familiar enough with Cardassian propriety to disapprove,” Odo says. “Except perhaps--”

“I can see all of your left  _ shoulder _ ,” Kira says from behind them, in shock. 

“Cardassia is a hot planet,” Garak says benignly. “Hello, Major. This is weather-appropriate dress. Banana Kanaralada?”

“No thanks,” Kira says. “I’m sticking to Bananaritas. Bananitis? Anyway, who are you supposed to be, Garak?”

“I am Farbad, scribe for Emperor Visbik,” Garak says, with a flourish. There is a pause.

“Should I know who that is?” Kira asks. 

“Major, can you explain your attire to us?” Odo says, intervening before Garak can open his mouth to respond. 

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” Kira says. “I’m bad at this kind of thing so I asked Dax for suggestions, and she recommended something simple and fun. So I’m the Bajoran Nightmare Fairy, I think is the closest translation in Standard.”

“Ah, Mother Hbitti,” Odo says. “I thought I recognized the tooth necklace.”

“ _ Very  _ fun,” Garak intones. 

“Don’t be jealous just because people can actually recognize me,” Kira says. 

“Forgive me, my knowledge of pastoral Bajoran nobodies is limited,” Garak says. “Are you the fairy that cures lazy eye, or the one that unclogs groundwater pipes?”

“The one that collects Cardassian body parts,” Kira says, pleasantly. 

“Where is Dr Bashir,” Odo says, mostly to himself, scanning the crowd. 

**11:00 PM**

“Bebe would like to know how many pushups you can do,” Kira tells Dax. The Andorian in question is currently chatting with two ensigns at the dartboard, but keeps looking over her shoulder--for Dax, Kira assumes. Kira had found that she usually enjoyed spending time with Dax and whoever Dax drew into her orbit at events like this, but Bebe was a bit hard to swallow. She had asked Kira if she knew that redheads were more likely to be infertile and go into sexually-motivated murder sprees during an eclipse. Dax had skillfully turned the conversation towards the last eclipse everyone had seen, and Kira had played along and lied about some eclipse she’d seen with her family up in the hills, when in truth the last lunar event had been necessary cover for sneaking over a retaining wall to throttle two Cardassian night watchmen. It had all been too uncomfortably close to the chest, and to top it off Bebe had then asked Dax if her spots formed any interesting constellations. Kira would almost prefer getting trapped in an endless psychosexual literary debate with Garak and Julian. 

“She does not,” Dax says. 

“Ok, well, then maybe I would like to know how many pushups you can do,” Kira says.

Dax raises her eyebrows. 

“I think you have a pretty good idea of my capabilities,” Dax says. “But I would love to show you sometime.” 

“Great,” Kira says. “Just tell me the time and place and I’ll gladly cheer you along.”

“Dinner at my place?”

“You’ll need your strength, for sure,” Kira says. They’ve only recently started having meals in each other’s quarters. Julian had stumbled into Kira practicing a Trill kiss greeting--Bajorans might be friendly but she’s very out of practice with the pause and eye flutter the Trills use. 

“Cultural exchange,” Kira had said, instead of laughing along with Julian. 

“Is there another Trill on the station?” he’d asked. 

“Oh no, this is for Dax,” Kira had said, and then for some reason she’d gone on, “You know, just a little peck between friends at the start of the evening. The old Trill hello! Ha! Not that Dax has ever kissed me hello. Not yet. Ha!”

“Alright,” Bashir had said, and then given her a knowing look that she’d tried to beat back with further nonsense talk.

She’s found herself over-explaining a lot when it comes to Dax. 

Dax is grinning.

“I’d wager you’re pretty good yourself,” Dax says. 

“At pushups?” Kira says. 

“At pushups.” 

“I got a prize in nursery for the number of Kappa nuts I could collect,” Kira blurts. 

Dax raises her eyebrows, which opens her face even further--it’s a nice face. Bajorans say people with a lot of friends have wide faces, and while Dax isn’t wide, there’s a brightness there that makes Kira think of the open sky. 

“So you were an athlete from a young age, then,” Dax says. 

“Kappa nuts are actually pretty big,” Kira says, motioning with her hands. “So I would say it’s impressive.” 

“You’re really cute,” Dax says. “Supremely.” 

“Oh, well,” Kira says, and raises her glass. It’s lukewarm, which is not the best temperature for banana long islands. “Gee, thanks.”

“Dax! DAAX,” the ensigns shout, cutting through the moment. It appears they’ve been doing so for a while but neither of them noticed. 

“You’d better get back there,” Kira says. 

“Are you sure?” Dax says. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kira says. “I promised Odo I’d teach him to two-step.” 

Dax has a funny little smile on. She hesitates, and then kisses Kira on the cheek. 

“Alright then,” she says. “Come join us when you’re ready for some pushups.” 

Kira watches her backslap her way across the room to the dartboard, and raises her glass to her cheek. The liquor must have fermented, because there’s no way her face is that hot.

“‘Gee, thanks’” she mimics to herself. 

  
  


**1:00 AM**

“It’s just that it can be hard to have fun,” Kira says. Her hands are up, framing some invisible illustration of the topic at hand. She’s shouting; at this point Quark’s is a vortex of noise and bodies.

“Right,” Julian says.

“Maybe I’m not a fun person,” Kira says. “But I could be!”

“Right,” Julian says. 

“What do fun people do?” 

“Shots?”

“I think you’re perfectly diverting,” Garak interrupts. “But I don’t recommend more of this banana goop.”

“When did you get here?” Kira asks.

“I might remind you that we were here first,” Garak says, gesturing to the nook where their tiny table is situated cozily away from the vigorous dancing on the main floor. “And you crashed into that chair after doing something one of the Betazoids called “smash-dancing” with Morn.”

“Right,” Kira says. “Wait, you think I’m fun?”

“Fun is overrated,” Garak says. In the dark edge of the bar, all Kira can see are the whites of his eyes and his teeth. 

“What was the last eclipse you saw?” she asks, sudenly. “Tell me about it.”

Garak blinks once before he answers. 

“I was with my mother and father, and too young to remember anything other than that the house went dark suddenly,” he says. It is so familiar a lie that Kira laughs. 

“Oh, wow. It figures,” she says. 

Garak raises an eyeridge--which should be anatomically possible, she feels--and it reminds her of Dax. Dax! Her stomach does a flip. It’s most likely the banana drink. 

“Where is Dax?”

“Dunno,” Julian says. He makes his way to his feet with admirable concentration. “Let’s find her!” 

“I believe she left with that charming Andorian and Ensign Fenix,” Garak supplies. “The Orion with the modern haircut.” 

“Found her!” Julian says, and drops back into his chair. 

“She’s gonna miss the costume contest,” Kira says, lamely.

“That happened an hour ago,” Garak says. “Really, Major.” 

**3:00 AM**

“Smash dancing,” Kira explains to Odo, who has subtly shifted several tentacles from his legs to hold her a little more upright, “Is real easy to learn.  Watch this.”

Kira body-checks Julian into a table. 

"See?" she staggers a little. "It's great. It feels amazing."

"It does not," Julian says from the floor. 

"Well, I feel good," Kira says. "I feel really good." 

"It is intriguing to me that humanoids say this when they are so close to failure of most bodily functions," Odo comments. 

"Most, but not all," Kira clarifies. 

"Not all," Odo agrees, and adds another supportive tentacle to her lower back. "Why don't we return to 'two-stepping'?"

"Fine," Kira says, and allows herself to be gently swayed back and forth.

Around them, the dancefloor thins, and points of greeny purple light from downed vampire bats make it look like the galaxy outside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (cardassiangrindr on tumblr)


	3. DAY TWO: HAUNTING AND LORE

**8:00 AM**

**READY ROOM**

“I can feel my thoughts,” Bashir says. “I can feel them, and they’re angry at me. They’re punching my skull with their little mind-fists to punish me for drinking so much of that...stuff.”

“Mother of God, what did you all get up to last night?” O’Brien asks. The ready room belies its name as most of the humanoid senior staff looks much, much less than anything approaching “ready.” Julian is so slouched in his chair that his nose is barely surfacing the edge of the conference room table, a miserable snorkel. Kira is upright through pure force of will at the opposite end, staring woodenly into the distance. O’Brien watches as she downs her fourth raktajino in one grim gulp, white-knuckled grip on the handle. 

“I believe they imbibed too much at Quark’s event last evening,” Odo says. He is punching in the coordinates for her fifth raktajino, this time half grass milk. “That would also explain Lt Dax’s unusual tardiness.”

“Why can’t you just whip up a hangover cure in the replicator?,” O’Brien asks. “Or something stronger; for God’s sake, just looking at you is making me peaky. Romulan tranquilizers might do it.” 

“We’ve already had the hangover cure,” Bashir says, surfacing slightly and wincing. “It barely made a dent in this.”

“Dax might be dead,” Kira says. “We couldn’t get ahold of her in her quarters on our way here.”

She and Julian exchange a baleful look. 

“I doubt she has perished,” Odo says. “But it is likely that, given your current condition, she is either comatose or trapped in her bathroom.”

“Speak of the devil,” O’Brien says, as Dax strides into the room. Contrary to the corpsified mess everyone was expecting, she is looking fresher than she has any right to.

“Morning all,” she says. Bashir glares at her and Kira raises a shaky, accusing finger.

“How did you escape this,” Kira grits out. “Is that a spring in your step?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” Dax says, smiling winningly. 

“Boo, hiss,” Julian says. “I’d be more furious but I can’t manage it at the moment. How was the rest of your evening?” 

“Oh, it was pretty fun,” Dax says, winking. 

“Trill metabolism must be one hell of a thing,” O’Brien comments.

“We’re actually quite resilient,” Dax says. “On par with Vulcans, almost. Though of course they can’t get drunk on fermented alcohol. But overall, I’d say we’re--hmm.”

She pauses, and then with a swift, “Excuse me,” strides quickly past O’Brien to vomit noisily in a trash can. 

“Ha!” Kira says, just as Sisko opens the doors. The whole room comes to attention--or at least, lurches towards it. Dax straightens up and shakes her hair back from her face as if she’d just been doing a particularly refreshing stretch. 

“Good morning,” the captain says, a touch suspiciously. He walks to the replicator amidst a strained silence. Behind him, Bashir slowly and painfully straightens up in his seat. 

“Are we all ready to proceed?” Sisko says, still facing the replicator and stirring his coffee. 

O’Brien casts a meaningful look at the rest of the humanoids. 

“Yes sir,” Kira says. Dax wipes her mouth with her sleeve and slides into a seat next to Kira.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir,” Bashir says. 

“Excellent,” Sisko says. He takes his seat at the head of the table, a smile playing around his mouth. “I take it none of you would like to join me in indulging in a banana danish this morning?”

“No thank you,” Kira says, over Bashir’s muffled groan. 

“More for me,” Sisko says. “Alright, let’s begin. O’Brien, there’s supposed to be a general powergrid update on Saturday. What’s the timeline for outages in the habitat ring?”

“We’re working to reduce the overlap between comms and transport, sir,” O’Brien says. “We at least want the intercom to work if the lifts don’t, otherwise we’re looking at at least two hours of complete communication and transport blackout between the promenade and the upper ten floors.”

“Less than ideal,” Sisko agrees. 

“I must reiterate my displeasure at this maintenance being conducted during Vesbytit,” Odo says. “Last year we had at least 200 visitors every night, and the riotous nature of the event means that crowd control is difficult enough without a power outage.”

“We considered that,” Dax says. “Unfortunately, in the next week we have a visiting ambassador from the Romulan Empire, and the last two weeks we were at half-capactiy because of--”

She pauses.

“Because of?” Odo prompts. Kira sets down her ratkajino.

“Are you all right, Lieutenant?” Sisko asks.  
“Mmmm,” Dax nods, mouth clamped shut.

“What she means to say is that since the skirmish on the Bajoran research vessel last month and the training routine a few weeks ago, this was the most opportune time for the updates, all things considered,” O’Brien says. He uses his foot to nudge the trashcan over to Dax. “It’s not the best, but it’s what we’ve got to work with.”

“Understood,” Sisko says. “Have the transporters been prepared for emergency movement between levels?”

“We’ll wait to recalibrate them,” Dax says. 

“Alright. Major Kira--” the intercom cuts off the captain before the next order of business.

_ Security to Odo _ .

“Odo here,” Odo says. “Go on.”

_ We’ve got an emergency on our hands in the replimat. One of the crew is dead. It seems--well--I’m not sure how to put this. _

The security officer sounds puzzled, hesitates.

“What’s the matter? Give us details,” Odo says. “What was the cause of death?”

_ I’m not sure, sir.  _

Odo sighs in annoyance.

“Were there any witnesses?”

There is a long pause.

_ I saw the whole thing. _

“Spit it out, then,” Odo says. “What did you see?”

_ I didn’t see anyone, sir. Fenix was getting a coffee and then he was gone. In mid-air in the replimat. It was just me and him and--Sir, we need you down here.  _

“Roger that, I’m on my way,” Odo says, just as Dax says, “Fenix?”

“You know the victim?” Odo asks, twisting to her. 

“If it’s Gaixian Fenix, I’m fairly confident I’m one of the last people who saw him alive,” Jadzia says, color draining from her face. Miles abandons pretense and lifts the trash can onto the conference table. 

“Officer, I’ll be bringing some of the senior crew with me,” Odo says to the intercom. “Start interviewing Ensign Fenix’s acquaintances.”

“I’ll inform his relatives once Dr Bashir has ID’d the body,” Sisko says. “We’re looking at how many people this evening for--what is tonight? Spooky scary?”

“Haunting and lore,” Odo supplies. “And at least another ship of partygoers from Bajor.”

“It’s  _ that  _ popular?” Julian says, unsteadily making his way to his feet. 

“Priority on this murder,” Sisko says. “I want tonight’s theme to stay in the realm of myth. And for God’s sake, get some electrolytes in yourselves.”

“Aye aye,” Julian says, and half-falls into the door button. 

  
  
  


**10:00 AM**

**SECURITY**

“Ok, let’s go over the timeline,” Odo says. Dax nods. 

“Fenix, myself, and Bebe left the party around 12:45,” Dax says. “We then proceeded to my quarters.”

“And what did you do there?”   
“We had a few drinks, a few laughs, and spent some quality time together. Bebe left first, then Fenix left for his own quarters a short time later.”

“And when was that?” Odo asks.

“Oh, around 3 am,” Dax says. 

“That’s not really a short time,” Odo says. “What do you mean by ‘quality time’?”

“We had sexual intercourse,” Dax says. “Sorry, Odo, euphemisms are a side-effect of hanging around with humans and their whole, you know.”

Odo nods. “Genital shame,” he says. 

“Should we leave?” Julian asks, from behind them. He and Kira are seated near the door; Kira is studiously examining a pamphlet on examining Benzite cranial cavities for contraband. 

“Not necessary,” Dax says, over her shoulder.

“Yes, I’d prefer you here to corroborate,” Odo says. “Continue, please.”

“Bebe and I had sex, and then I had sex with Fenix. Both bouts lasted about an hour, and in the case of Fenix, we parted on good terms with an embrace and lingering kiss.” 

“I appreciate the clarity,” Odo says, nodding. “Do you have exact times for this?”

“Bebe left quite quickly--around 2, before Fenix and I coupled,” Dax says. “She didn’t say anything; to be honest, I’d barely noticed she’d gone, as I was still reeling from the encounter.”

“The banana aftershocks are making this even worse,” Julian says, conversationally.

“Did either of you speak to Bebe?”

“I did,” Kira says. “Nothing much to note; Andorian, middle-aged, I think she was dressed as a crab?”

“That was just her ship’s uniform,” Dax informs her. 

“Huh,” Kira says. 

“Doctor Bashir?”

“I didn’t speak with her, so I don’t know about the crab thing,” Julian says. “I did find traces of Andorian DNA on Fenix’s clothes, but at a level that signifies an interaction many hours before his death. She wasn’t at the crime scene, that’s for sure. Neither was Dax; there was, uh, the same level present of Trill DNA. No other DNA was present.” 

“That’s not particularly useful,” Odo says. “Lieutenant, did Bebe reveal anything about her intentions, here on the station or in the future?” 

“She said she wanted to eat my ass until I saw the locus of the nearest dwarf star,” Dax says. She and Odo turn at the sound of something ripping.

“Sorry,” Kira says, placing the two halves of the pamphlet back on Odo’s desk. “You were saying?”

**12:00 PM**

**SECURITY**

The security footage doesn’t tell them anything new. 

“And you’re sure it wasn’t a seizure?” Kira asks. 

“No, his brain had no abnormal function prior to his death, or at least none visible from the autopsy scans,” Bashir says. He’s peering over Kira’s shoulder at the monitor in Odo’s office. “Besides, a seizure doesn’t leave marks like that.”

“What kind,” Odo asks, rolling back the footage yet again with a sharp jab to the screen. 

“Handprints,” Bashir says. “Ensign Fenix was strangled.”

Kira shivers. 

“Are you all right?” 

“I’m fine,” Kira says. “Must be the environmental controls in here.”

“Apologies,” Odo says. “Adjust them as you wish. Do we know anything about Ensign Fenix? Did they have any enemies?”

“According to ships’ logs they joined us about three months ago in the communications department,” Kira says, rummaging for the PADD O’Brien had given her about crew allocations. “Yep, assigned to Beta shift communications maintenance. No write-ups or reprimands. They seem sociable. It says here they contributed to the “Comings and Goings” section of the newsletter for station residents.”

On the screen, they watch as Fenix approaches the replicator in the empty replimat. He stiffens, and suddenly his entire body is pulled backwards. There’s no sound on the video, but his mouth opens and the tray he was carrying falls to the floor, scattering cutlery and a half-full cup of coffee. His hands come up to grab at something invisible around his neck. His feet kick the air helplessly. A security officer appears, and attempts to free Fenix by grasping blindly at the air behind him. He finds purchase--his face twists in fear--and then he’s thrown through the air, smashing into the far wall. 

The rest is awful and unchanging. Fenix finally stops moving and his body slumps to the floor. Odo, seemingly unsatisfied, presses the rewind button again.

“I don’t think there’s much left to see,” Kira says. “Tech says nothing they do to the video can bring whatever attacked Fenix into the visible realm.” 

“There’s always something,” Odo says. But there’s nothing anyone can see. 

**1:30 PM**

**THE REPLIMAT**

“Just when I think I’m feeling better, the urge to vomit comes right back,” Dax says. 

The replimat is closed for the investigation, but there wouldn’t be that many people around anyway--thanks to the day one party, the morning of day two of Vebystit usually lasts until 5pm, just in time for the next party to begin. There’s nothing to see of the crime scene other than scattered chairs and a blood smear, which Julian confirms belongs only to Ensign Fenix. 

“Scanner’s truly not picking up any other genetic material,” he says. He frowns. “Was it a political hit? I think the Romulans might be able to manage molecular-level cloaking, but that seems a bit much for such a public death.”

“Orions usually assassinate each other,” Dax says, squatting and peering at the ground. “There were those killings for sentient rights violations and proto-sexual reform in the 3080s.”

“Didn’t make Bajoran space when I was a kid,” Kira says.

“Somehow I doubt the Cardassians were eager to broadcast reports of successful civil disobedience,” Dax says. “It’s moot, though; Fenix was one of the only Orions in the quadrant, and I doubt he was embroiled in cross-galaxy intrigue.”

“Ahh, but that’s what he’d want you to think,” Julian says. Kira elbows him in the neck when Dax’s back is turned. 

“The assailant approached this way,” Dax says, following the trail of overturned chairs. “And then...disappeared? There’s no indication of an exit route. And no one saw anyone enter or exit.”

“Nothing in the ducts,” Kira says, scanner over her head. 

“I hate to say it, given the day, but it does look like we have a mystery on our hands,” Julian says. 

Dax is chewing her lip. 

“I can’t think of anything,” she says. She grimaces and puts her hand to her head. “That could just be the hangover.”

They walk towards Quark’s, the only other place open on the promenade, for something bland and soothing. Odo’s office is a convenient distance away, which Kira has commented on in a teasing way that Odo seems incapable of picking up.

“What do you think’s going on with them, anyway,” Kira says, watching as the pen Quark is using takes on a recognizable, beige form. They’re far enough away that the ensuing shouting match is comfortable background noise. 

“Investigation of Ensign Fenix’s death?”

“No, this is just regular Quark and Odo stuff,” Kira says. “You can tell because Odo is using his fun voice.”   
“Right.”

“I think they’re courting, Cardassian-style.”

“Cardassian? Between a Ferengi and Changeling?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Kira says. “Odo was basically raised Cardassian and is quite literally a mimic, so he’s well-versed in Kss’t, argue foreplay.”

“I don’t really like combining Quark and foreplay,” Julian says.

“Well, Quark is a walking hormone factory and also served Cardassians for a long time,” Kira says. “That’s something they share, and they’re both too…” She searches for the word “...particular to adapt to the other completely, so this is a little bridge. I think it’s romantic.”

“As much as it chills me,” Julian says, watching Odo morph into Ferengi form to berate Quark as himself, “I think you’re on to something.”

“It’s cute,” Kira says. 

Odo Quark is now mirroring Quark Quark’s every move, sending the latter into a shrieking, foot-stamping rage. One of the Dabo girls pulls a pack of earplugs from his cleavage and pops them into his sensor holes without missing a beat at the table. 

“What do you think, Dax?”

Dax is lost in thought, staring at the double Quarks with a thousand-yard gaze. Kira squeezes her forearm. 

“Dax?”

“I’m trying to remember if there was anything out of place last night,” Dax says. “And I just can’t. I feel responsible. One minute you’re riding some guy’s face, the next he’s dead. What if I killed him with an infection or something worse?”

“Your scans were perfectly normal,” Julian says, mopping up some of his suddenly spilt smoothie. “And his death was caused by trauma to his neck, Dax. He was assaulted.”

“I still fell horrible.”

“That’s natural,” Kira says. “In the Bajoran sense, you carry a lot of weight, as one of the people he last saw.”

“At least I’m not the one who has to inform his broodmates,” Dax sighs. 

“From what I’ve heard, Orion traditions include a great deal of recreational group sex,” Julian offers. “I think that they’d be glad to hear that Fenix had, uh, enjoyed himself before his last moments.” 

“There is that,” Dax says. She sighs. “Cold comfort, if you think about all the group sex he had in his future.”

“Don’t think like that,” Kira says. “I know you’re not big on it, but we can go to the Temple together later for him, if you’d like.”

“Thanks,” Dax says. She smiles wanly.

“How about we go now, before our meeting,” Julian says. “Put some space between us and the replimat?” 

They make a wide circle around the Quarks. 

“It must be love,” Julian says, under his breath. “This is horrible for business.”

“Good thing we were the only customers,” Kira says.

“Us and that Ataxian back there,” Dax says. 

“Really? It looked empty,” Julian says. “Thanks to the promenade investigation--I didn’t think anyone was allowed in, hence that tet-a-tet.” 

“He was large as life, came downstairs just a minute ago,” Dax says. “Big, humanoid, nude--hard to miss.”

Kira and Julian shrug.

“Oh well,” Dax says. They hop into the nearest turbolift.

Behind them, in the deserted first floor of Quark’s, tables and chairs move apart on their own accord. Skittering back as if pushed by an errant passerby, and forming a line that leads out the door. 

**3:00 PM**

**SECURITY**

“I refuse to accept a lockdown just because someone was murdered by an invisible force no one can explain,” Quark says, stomping into Odo’s office. He pauses when he sees the group, especially Bashir, whose hangover has progressed to a deeply unattractive full-body sweat. “You guys look like shit, did you know that?”

“How did you already hear about this?” Kira asks. She shakes her head. “Forget I asked. But a little discretion in the time of a serious tragedy would be nice.”

“Discretion? Sure, as long as you don’t cut me off at the knees on the second most profitable night of the calendar year,” Quark says. “C’mon, Odo. It’s the night of fear and people pay big bucks for my haunted simulations. Plus we take in a massive margin on the caramel sehlats.”

“There’s a murder scene a few doors down from your bar, Quark. Even if I didn’t think it was the best move to curtail activity this evening, surely that would dissuade your clientele.”

“What is it about Night of Fear that you’re not getting?” Quark says. “This is the best thing that’s happened to my bar since Keiko gave me those horny daylilies.”

“I don’t think she did that on purpose,” Julian says, “And I thought there was a station-wide ban on talking about the pheromone attack?” 

Quark mimes zipping his lips, and immediately launches back into his tirade. 

“Look, even if Lt. Dax did sex someone to death, I have a religious precedent that means you’ll need to get the Kai’s acceptance to close the bar.”

He thrusts a scroll in Odo’s face. 

“Read it and weep.”

Odo harrumphs and accepts the scroll.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, and begins to read. The assembled crew are thus captive audience to his impressive face journey, from scorn, to disbelief, to astonishment, landing finally on resignation. 

“Fine, but we’ll have double the security patrols and I will be in attendance, in case anything goes sideways.”

“Great! Mandatory two-drink order for all attendees,” Quark says, snatching the scroll back.

“ **_No_ ** ,” everyone in the office choruses, in different registers of suffering. 

“Fine, fine,” Quark says, stepping back, “Two-appetizer requirement, how about that? Nothing helps a hangover like salted slug jerky, I tell you what.” 

  
  
  


**5:00 PM**

**QUARK'S**   
  


“I spent my whole afternoon trying to comms that Andorian vessel,” Kira says. “Best I could do was try and message the Andorian Shipping Union to get in touch with Bebe’s rep--not that I expected that to be easy, what with the fake name--”

“Fake name?” Dax says. Kira nods.

“You think she gave  _ me _ a fake name?”

“C’mon,” Kira says. “Bebe? Bee bee?”

Dax makes a little, comically shocked noise. 

“I’d expect this regionalism from a human,” Dax begins, only for Kira to cut her off.

“Dax, Andorian shipping vessels all start with double beta symbols. It’s a naming convention. You know, like the BB Luster that was in that crash on Vulcan?” 

“Oh,” Dax says. She clutches her face with both hands. “Oh, wow.”

“It’s ok,” Kira says. “She was a really beautiful crab. That’ll scramble even the sharpest brain.”

Dax smiles, and then jumps sideways as one of the mechanical Ferengi skeletons behind the bar activates. There’s something off with their sensors--Rom can be seen chasing them around and removing their spines to adjust the interface.

With no other options, they’re at Quarks, surveilling. Odo had reported the hope that recreating the conditions of the previous night might help move the investigation forward. Sisko had asked if his senior staff really intended to get catastrophically drunk, again, after a murder, and Odo had quickly amended his suggestion to include “within reason.”

“Care for a booooo-verage?” the skeleton waiter says. 

“I don’t really enjoy the second night,” Dax says. 

“I feel you,” Kira says, slapping away the skeleton’s hand. 

“Beware, the Trill succubus,” Quark announces in booming tones from the front of the bar. He’s added extra cobwebs and dimmed the lights, both for atmosphere and to hide the distinctly smaller crowd this evening. “Better get yourselves up to the Haunted Horror Holosuites before she casts her hungry eyes your way!”

“Someone has died,” Kira reminds him. “Can you please tap into some vestigial sense of shame?”   
Quark slumps across from them, chewing one manicured nail. 

“I  _ am  _ ashamed,” he says. “This turnout is embarrassing. Usually murder and accidents really rev people up for the festival, but for some reason it’s not working.”

“My heart bleeds,” Kira says.

“If it’s visible, get out front and open your jacket,” Quark says. “That sort of thing is exactly what I need to bring people in here.”

“You should start by tending to your current customers,” Dax says. “That guy has been waiting for a while.”

“What? Where?” Quark whips around. 

Dax gestures down the empty bar. 

“That guy,” she says. “In the awful costume? Coming this way?”

In the next few seconds Dax is airborne scrabbling at her throat, eyes bulging. Kira acts instinctively, grabbing Dax’s leg and searching for the garotte, or the hidden noose that must be pulling her upwards. The last thing she registers before she goes flying over the bar and into the light-up bottle display is something cold and solid and like a hand smashing into her chest. 

Quark is shrieking. Kira wipes her forehead--it’s blood, great--and the bar comes back into focus. Dax has been thrown into a table and is for the moment free of whatever had her in its grasp. The attacker appears to have disappeared--but then Kira sees Dax’s hair rise, as if held in an invisible fist. 

Kira scrambles to her feet and grabs the first thing her hand closes over--a bottle of romulan ale--and hurls it in the general direction of Dax’s hair. It shatters over something, the blue liquid briefly outlining a hulking shape. It reaches out for Dax’s face. 

“Quark!” Kira says. She grabs him and tries to root through his vest pocket, words coming too slowly. Quark shrieks again and then seems to realize what she’s after.

“IvegotitIgotitIgotitIgotit,” he says, and flicks his latinum-plated lighter out of his girdle. 

Kira grabs it, flicks it on, and hurls it like a baseball. 

“Duck!” she yells, as an afterthought. 

The conflagration isn’t enough to stop the thing, but it is sufficient to make it drop Dax, who crawls away.

“This way!” Quark screams, and sprints toward the second floor, stumbling in his panic. Kira grabs a wetly coughing Dax by the shoulder and hauls her up the stairs.

“It’s following us,” Dax says, looking over her shoulder. 

“You can see it?” Kira says, glancing back to see nothing but smoke.

“It’s slow but it’s coming,” Dax says. They hear a footstep on the metal rung of the stairs. 

“Prophets preserve us,” Kira says, clearing the top step with Dax against her in a death grip and dragging them both over to Quark.

“It lifted me like I was nothing,” Dax says, dazed. “I’ve never felt that kind of power before. Like I was a baby.”

“The holosuites are plated with vessel-grade titanium,” Quark says, slamming into a keypad and frantically smashing in a code. “OVERRIDE! Override Quark Eight Eight! Open up!” 

The holosuite door opens and Kira has a moment of doubt, looking into the dark sliver of the suite. 

“We’ll be trapped in there,” she says.

“Better than dead!” Quark screams. “Get in or I’m locking you out!”

Behind them, the sound of heavy feet on the stairwell.

“Fine, fine,” Kira says, and she and Dax struggle in after Quark, who slaps the command panel. The heavy door, product of Cardassian paranoia and possibly the only product of theirs Kira has ever been thankful, closes. 

**5:05 PM**

**QUARK’S PREMIUM HORROR HOLOSUITE 1**

“Kira to Sisko,” Kira tries, again. There’s no answer. 

“I told you, part of the appeal of the premium horror suites is the lack of outside irritations or interruptions,” Quark says. “Now we should really get moving to the Great Hall--if I remember correctly, we’re going to be set upon by werewolves in a minute.”

They’re in a castle; that much Kira recognizes from her previous medieval adventure with Dax. It’s dark, blue-gray stone and flickering torches. Kira appreciates the attention to detail, but the morphing shadows and distant howl that is echoing up to them from the depths of the place aren’t doing anything for her nerves. That, and the fact that they’re all in sheer, billowing nightgowns. 

“I thought this was a horror simulation,” Kira says. “Why are we naked?”

“Fear and arousal and similar in intensity,” Dax says. She winces, and places a supporting hand on one of the deep windowsills. “Not to break the mood, but would one of you mind popping my shoulder back into place?”

Kira rushes over to her, almost tripping on the ridiculous lacy edge of her gown. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”   
“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Dax says, sheepish. In the moonlight she’s very, very pale.

“Alright,” Kira says, pressing one palm on Dax’s chest, close to her shoulder, and taking firm hold of her upper arm. The fabric is silky and slides distractingly under her fingers.

“Count of three?” Kira asks, and glances up at Dax to confirm.

“You look great,” Dax says, instead. Her mouth quirks in either pain or amusement, and Kira feels her pulse in her ears and in the silk under her hands.

“Usually I’d be all for whatever you’re doing here but the werewolves, ladies! The werewolves!” Quark snaps, twisting his skirt nervously in his fists.

Kira starts and says “One,”and yanks Dax’s shoulder back into place. There’s a lot of varied howling in the hallway.

“It didn’t feel alive,” Dax says. They’re in a small v-formation with Quark in the middle (as per his demand), heading deeper into the castle to where Quark says there’s a security panel access point. If they’re lucky, Dax thinks she can override the privacy setting and enable comms--but the holoprogram is premium for a reason, and the castle seems endless. The stone floors are now covered with lush carpets and huge portraits of Cardassian nobles with searching, luminous eyes stare at them from the walls. Quark keeps lifting the torch and whirling around in fear, which is grating on Kira’s nerves. It doesn’t help that it’s freezing, and she can see right through Dax’s nightgown. 

“So it was a machine of some kind?” Kira asks. 

“No, that’s not quite right,” Dax says. “It felt like a being, I could feel skin, but the amount of force and strength were that of an android. I couldn’t feel breath, so I think android is my best working theory. It certainly looked like a humanoid. The face was--”

She stops abruptly. 

“It was unpleasant,” she says. “I’m glad you all can’t see that part.” 

“I’ve never heard of an invisible hitman impervious to fire,” Kira says. “They would have been extremely useful in the resistance.”

“None of the other Daxes have either,” Dax says. 

“Do you think it got Bebe?” Kira asks. 

“I hope not,” Dax says. “But it certainly seems to have something to do with her.”

“Did you hear that?” Quark stops, throwing out a hand to stop Kira and Dax. “I heard something. Did you hear it?”

The three of them stand in silence, listening. 

“I can’t--”

“There it is,” Quark interrupts, “Just now. Something is moving.” 

“We’re not going to be able to help you with this,” Dax whispers, gesturing at her small ears. 

“That’s obvious,” Quark says. “Wait! It’s back! It’s behind us somewhere.”

Kira peers behind them into the dark of the hallway. Outside of the small pool of light cast by their torch, it’s impossible to tell shadow from shadow. She shivers involuntarily. 

“This is ridiculous,” she says. “How many werewolves are in this simulation? Who would order such a thing?”

“It’s not just werewolves,” a voice says from the darkness. 

“ _ Demon _ ,” Quark shrieks, and hurls the torch in its direction. 

“Ow, come on, it’s me,” Julian says, retrieving the torch from where it fell to the floor. He appears to be similarly clad in a diaphanous gown. “It’s also vampires, at the next level.”

“Okay, this is making more sense,” Kira says. “Where’s Garak?”

“I think he’s here,” Dax says, “I hear movement.” 

She hauls open a large door to their right. There’s a high window in the room behind the door--a chapel of some kind. A thin shaft of moonlight reveals a figure bent over an altar. 

“Hey, we need to--oh, shit,” Dax says. The figure at the altar turns, yellow-eyed and a lot hairier than she remembers Garak being. 

“ _ Demon,” _ Quark screams again. 

“Obviously not,” Garak says, from behind the werewolf. Candles scattered across the nave come alight, cued no doubt by their appearance, showing that he’s tied to the huge stone altar. He’s in the standard translucent gown, and is apparently not at all concerned about his imminent sacrifice. “Oh, I'm supposed to say something--Aaa! I am so afraid.”

“I believe this is where I come in,” Julian says, pulling an old-fashioned revolver from somewhere. The werewolf, bristling with cinematic rage, stomps towards them.

“Be my guest,” Kira says, stepping out of the way. 

  
  


**THIRTY MINUTES LATER**

**QUARK’S PREMIUM HORROR HOLOSUITE 1**

“Alright,” Julian says, panting heavily as he unties Garak, “Who chose the nightgowns? Bloody things are impossible to run in.” 

“They’re my idea,” Quark says, placing an arm around Julian. “You can thank me later for the underwear as well.”

“There is no underwear,” Kira says, stepping gingerly over the bullet-ridden corpse of the werewolf. 

“Exactly,” Quark says, winking. Garak clears his throat loudly.

“Now that we’ve all got an eyeful of each other, I suggest we move out of the church and somewhere less prone to vampires,” he says. “I’d offer you all stakes but we’ve only enough for the two of us, this being a private venture, though I am coming to realize that means less than nothing to members of Starfleet and their allies.” 

“Forget the wambires,” Kira says, “We’ve got a killer stalking Dax and we need to get ahold of Sisko, now.” 

“A killer? Surely they can’t follow us in here,” Garak says, just as the thing crashes through the stone wall behind him, sending him and his nightgown flying. 

“Run!” Quark shrieks.

“Garak!” Julian says, just as Dax yells, “Watch out!”

“There’s nothing there,” Julian says, head whipping around. In seconds, he’s bent over, clutching his bleeding nose. “God, what was that?”

“Dax, where is it?” Kira says, brandishing the torch. 

“Over here,” Dax says, shoving Julian out of its path. “I’m the one it wants.” 

“I have a gun,” Julian says, shakily raising it. “Where should I shoot?”

“Isn’t that part of the simulation?” Kira asks.

“No, we chose to turn the safety off,” Julian says, somehow sheepish under all the blood. “Enhanced sensation, and all--” 

“Oh, gross,” Kira says, just as Dax elbows her out of the way.

“At me,” Dax says. “Shoot at me!”

“Jadzia--”

“Now!” Dax shouts, and Julian fires. It singes her ear and she falls back.

“More to the center,” she shouts.

“Jadzia, I could kill you,” Julian says.

“Just do it,” Dax yells. Kira watches as the bullet hits something, briefly pooling and illuminating a shoulder, before sliding to the ground.

“Didn’t work!” Dax says, and dives towards the ground. 

“What--” Julian, face a picture of shock, doesn’t get to finish his sentence. The thing whips around and an invisible hammer falls on his arm, shattering the bone. 

Julian screams, and Kira feels a very unfamiliar and unwelcome panic. 

“It only wants me,” Dax says, “Just leave me here.”

“No!” Kira says, waving the torch around wildly in an attempt to hit the thing. Instead the torch is ripped from her hands and dashed against the wall. 

Suddenly, Garak appears beside her like Lazarus from the grave, nightgown ripped in half, hair in his face, and deadlifts a huge mirror off the wall and with an enormous heave, pitches it in the direction of the thing. 

“It’s down,” Dax confirms, as they run-pell mell down the hall, Garak basically carrying Julian, and Kira dragging Quark. “For now.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Julian says, weakly.

  
**UNCLEAR TIME  
**QUARK’S PREMIUM HORROR HOLOSUITE 1****  


“So what’s the plan?” Quark asks, dry-washing his hands. “How are we going to get to the security panel, oh fearless crewmates?”

They’re out in the castle’s graveyard, which at least is brightly lit by the fake moon. Dax has climbed up a particularly nipply angel, keeping watch for any sign of the thing. 

“Running isn’t going to work for much longer,” Kira says , breaking a branch in half. They’re trying to splint Julian’s arm. His nose has stopped bleeding, at least. “And we can't rely on random, handy projectiles. That’s not exactly a recipe for success.”

“Chances are we end up shooting one another in our next encounter,” Julian says, snuffling and wincing. “Or worse.” 

“Doctor, try not to move so much,” Garak says. Most of his remaining nightgown has been sacrificed to binding the stick to Julian’s arm. 

“We need to change the dynamic,” Dax muses.

“Until we can see our attacker, that’s going to be impossible,” Kira says. 

“I think I have a solution to that,” Dax says, thoughtfully. Seemingly having come to a conclusion, she straightens up and clasps her hands together as though they were being debriefed in Ops in full dress uniform, rather than huddled around a tombstone in negligees. 

“I have weighed our options, and I can recommend only one way forward,” Dax says. Even Quark is listening attentively instead of ogling her breasts. Kira feels a stirring of pride at how strong Dax looks, even in the worst situation.   
Dax clears her throat.

“It is in our best strategic interest for you all to engage in sexual intercourse with me, immediately,” she says. 

There’s a pause.

“Say what?” Kira says. Her mouth has dropped open, which she thought was only something that happened in Odo’s novels. It’s nice to know that true shock can actually do that to a person. 

“Ensign Fenix and I could both see this assailant, and we both had sexual contact with Bebe, who then vacated the premises,” Dax explains. “Ergo, I believe visual confirmation of this thing is a byproduct of--”

“Having sex,” Julian says. “All of us?”

“If we can all see it, we have a better chance of getting to the security panel and getting out of here without dying,” Dax says. 

“Ok, I’m willing to overlook the--the years, the decades, of reprimand we’d get if anyone found out but, but--how do we know it was,” Kira makes a vertical, tubular gesture with her hand, “And not just kissing?” 

“I am also reluctant to pin our survival on our ability to orgasm under such strained circumstances,” Garak says. “It is freezing out here, I might add.” 

“ _ You chose this program,” _ Julian hisses at him. 

“I think the actions are less important than the connection and gesture,” Dax says. “Though I’d suggest mechanically, some fluid exchange is likely necessary.”

“Huh,” Kira says. 

“I’m not saying I’m not interested,” Quark says. “But I have some ground rules: No ear biting. Everything else is cool."

"Everything...else," Garak repeats, deadpan. 

“Think about it for a bit,” Dax says, “And then we can discuss the particulars.”

She resumes her position on the dais of the angel statue, looking back at the castle. In less than a second, she has returned to the ground.

“So I hope you had enough time to think, because it’s coming this way,” Dax says, wringing her hands. 

“I don’t want to die!” Quark screeches. He rips off his nightgown and leaps at Dax, clinging koala-like to her midsection. Kira, despite herself, can’t help but respect the sentiment and the action. 

“Jadzia, I have never been less aroused than I am right now,” Julian says. “In my professional opinion, we can’t all possibly copulate in time to have a strategic advantage.”

“Not all of us,” Quark agrees, burrowing into Dax’s neck. 

“We have a plethora of gravestones to throw,” Garak says. “Silver lining.”

“What--what if we start with kissing and see what happens?” Kira says, wildly searching for any way to make the situation less insane. 

“Works for me,” Dax says, and lifts Quark by the ears to plant one on him. The accompanying noise is going to haunt Kira for weeks. 

“I am not in the least aroused,” Garak reports. 

“We’ve got to speed this up,” Dax says, looking over her shoulder. She appears to think for a split second, and then snaps her fingers and points at the remaining team members.

“Ok, let’s optimize--everyone huddle up and swap fluid,” Dax yells, and Kira gets a face-full of wiggling, pointy Quark. 

“Alright, down boy,” Kira says, when she is finally released from what, all things considered, wasn’t the worst kiss of her life. It was still pretty--did she have a paper cut? On her tongue? Kira has just enough time to look over and see Dax soul-kissing Garak, which sounds like something out of Odo’s old-earth Mad Libs, when Julian pulls both her and a swooning Quark over.

“I’ve been kissed, come here,” he says.

“Me too, just in case!” Quark says, pushing closer. Julian kisses her, very sweetly, first, until she takes the initiative and makes it a little deeper. He sighs--she will never let him forget this. never--as he pulls her, and by extension, Quark, closer. They break apart, but not too far. 

"We should be sure," Kira hears herself saying. It's weird that this isn't weirder. 

"Yep," Julian says. Quark just meeps. There’s more hot breath and lips and the hint of a tongue, and it must be the panic, because--well, Dax did say that fear and arousal went hand in hand, because Julian is still right there and Kira thinks, looking at Quark’s weird little mouth, isn’t life weird, just as Dax appears and leans in, her dark eyes holding a gravity all of their own, and she can feel her inhale and--

Unfortunately, this is when the override that O’Brien had been steadily plugging away at kicks into motion, and the five of them are transported to Ops in a spitty heap of tulle. 


	4. DAY TWO POINT FIVE: HAUNTING, LORE, AND INTERPERSONAL NIGHTMARE

**9:00 PM**

**READY ROOM**

Is it captaincy that unlocks the genetic knowledge of that time-honored position, the beleaguered head-in-hands, or is it a gift from birth that marks you as a future captain? Whichever, true to his rank, Sisko is performing it beautifully.

“So you believe that now you all are able to see the assailant,” he says, unmoving. It must be nice, Kira thinks, to be able to block out all sight of your subordinates at times like this. They’re ringed around him, somehow still in nightgowns with shock blankets that O’Brien replicated for them without being asked. Julian had been excused to heal his arm, and then ushered back in to report. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Has anyone been able to confirm this?”

Garak does a full-body shiver, and exhales loudly. 

“Awfully chilly in here. Could I get another emergency blanket?”

“I take that as a no,” Sisko says, ignoring him. 

“I did get a glance,” Julian says. “Sir.”

“What did you see?”

“A figure,” Julian says.

“Please have more specifics, Dr Bashir,” Kira says.

“A nude figure,” Julian says. 

“Benjamin, this is congruent with my sighting,” Dax says, posture impeccable despite the blanket and a truly impressive cowlick. “I am inclined to say that it worked.”

“We’ll get back to the how later, and with your union reps,” Sisko says. “For now, I need you all to identify the location of the assailant so we can transport it to a holding cell.”

“I thought there weren’t any cameras in the private holosuites?” Julian asks, a touch nervously. 

Quark coughs.

“Do I have to be here? I’ve got customers waiting,” he says. 

“Quark, if you think I’m going to let you host a party with a massive, invisible murderer on the loose, you must be out of your mind.” 

“Not on the loose, exactly,” Quark says, extremely confidently for someone basically naked under a Starfleet issue blanket. “He’s contained in the holosuite, right? No harm letting a few people in the first floor--”

“Please shut up,” Sisko says. “You will be confined to the security office until this is resolved.” 

He finally looks up at the arrayed crew.

“Mr Garak, you have my sincere apologies for being caught up in a security breach and the resulting, deeply inappropriate actions of the crew. Please consult the station counselor at your leisure, and know that you have the right to legal action, if you choose to lodge a complaint.”

“I feel validated. I feel seen,” Garak says. “I will refrain from a complaint at this time.” 

“For the rest of you,” Sisko says. There is a pause. “Find this thing, transport it, and then head to your quarters. This is the last I want to hear about this until tomorrow.” 

  
  


**11:00 PM**

**OPS**

“Captain, we’ve successfully evacuated the assailant into space. I’m happy to report that both myself and Major Kira could see it, which proves my theory correct. So, I was right. Captain? Benjamin? I think he hung up on me.”

**11:30 PM**

**IN FRONT OF DAX’S QUARTERS**   
Kira is considering what today was supposed to have taught her. Much of life on DS9 is like the string games she would play as a child, where the pattern first appeared tangled, but then was pulled apart by a knowing hand to create a single, unbroken line. Kira is trying to cultivate more patience in peacetime, but she remains a fan of cutting through particularly difficult knots when the need arises. 

Dax is shaking dust from her dark hair.

“Quark really went all out on that holoprogram,” she says. “The extra rendering for clothes and castle residue must have cost a fortune.”

“You look like a painting,” Kira says. “Woman brushing hair.” 

“Ha!” Dax shakes her head one last time and grimaces at the ball of hair tangled around her fingers. “Man, I need a bath--”

“Wanna kiss?” 

Dax immediately drops her hairball hand and looks at Kira.

“I realize we didn’t get to earlier, and I really wanted to,” Kira says. 

“Oh,” Dax says. Kira was expecting to be teased, but Dax just looks moved. She moves closer. “Nerys, I’d love to.” 

Dax is, unsurprisingly, an excellent kisser. 


End file.
